


Offer me that deathless death

by Feroxai



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe-Inception, Angst with a Happy Ending, Contains a little Dora/Petra, Dream Thievery, M/M, Mild post skip spoilers for BL, Miscommunication, Non-Chronological, Pining, Requires little to no knowledge of Inception, Rivals to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 18:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21275558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feroxai/pseuds/Feroxai
Summary: Sylvain is a liar and a thief, and all he has left of Felix are dreams.





	Offer me that deathless death

Sylvain liked to write. He wrote down his thoughts and dreams. He didn’t believe in dissecting them— dreams were so easily manipulated that there was no point in searching for any meaning within them.

Even so, it was nice to record his creations and what he imagined when he dreamt. It was useful for the day job— if he created new techniques, those would be fun to incorporate into dream heists. And it was a good way to check if he was dreaming or awake.

With dreams, you rarely remember how you get from place to place. In his line of work, he’s learnt to be paranoid and controlled, never letting his guard fall down. Inevitably, he’s collected secrets and valuable ideas, amassing his mind into a treasure trove. He knows how easy it is to pull someone into a shared dream— it’s happened to him before.

Even if he enjoyed dreaming, the only times he could truly rest was in the darkness of dreamless nights.

***

Sometimes, Sylvain mourned for the Felix of his childhood.

As a child, he was clingy and soft and unfailingly followed his friends everywhere. Sylvain used to watch in jealousy whenever Felix cried after an argument with Glenn, or whenever Dimitri left him behind.

But he didn’t just watch— he’d comfort and cajole him as if hoping to fill in the spaces and warmth left behind by others until there was no one left in his heart but him.

Dorothea would call him possessive, even back then. He disagreed. He couldn’t be possessive of someone he never had.

It was truly regrettable, he thought, that he seldom saw Felix nowadays. Felix may have been the one to introduce him to dream-sharing, but it was rare that they were commissioned on the same projects.

Felix was a brilliant dream architect— he had established himself in a team long before Sylvain discovered they had both entered the underworld of dream-sharing. When Sylvain reached out, Felix had made it clear that they needed no forgers or old friends on his team. As if in retribution for his sins, Felix pushed him away.

Maybe he deserved that.

It was fine, he'd told himself. Sylvain was a man of resourcefulness. He didn’t _ need _ Felix to steal dreams. He was plenty talented himself.

He freelanced, found jobs— made his own team. A family of his own.

Sylvain’s people performed very different heists than any other dream thieves. They specialised in high-risk, high-reward gigs. Paranoid people and militarised businessmen and politicians were their usual targets.

He and Dorothea specialised in forging. A good forger could take on the visage, voice and movement of anyone in a dream. They were invaluable for infiltrating and gaining trust.

Petra could design incredibly creative and wild dreamscapes. Like other architects, she was an illusion builder. She planned and built the dream, sewing together the little details to keep the targets unaware and adding in hidden escape routes for the team.

Bernadetta ran point for them-- she could find every written secret published on wire or paper. Knowing information about the subject meant it was easier to tailor a dream level around manipulating them. Subjects, especially militarised ones, presented a substantial danger if they realised their dreams were being invaded.

Sure, they had their fair share of fallen dreams, but their success rate for difficult projects was unparalleled.

He didn’t think he could be happier. He could live with great friends, an electrifying job and quiet regrets which coloured his thoughts, actions and words.

***

He remembered what it was like before he left.

His parents were strict and unyielding. Like cold, hollow overseers. Resolute in their words; commands with which they spurred.

They constantly pushed him— sports, music, be a good boy Sylvain, get a business degree, go to grad school, take over the company, bring home a nice girl—no, no, no, not one of _those._

He remembered constantly struggling against their grasp. He took part in all acts of petty teenage rebellion he could— alcohol, drugs, hooking up with women—and men.

Like a twisted paradox, he kept it all under wraps. He didn’t let them know. But he felt accomplished— like he was smearing the image of the perfect son they thought he was.

He partied all the way through college, barely able to distinguish one day from the next.

Until he met Felix Fraldarius again.

***

Felix had been the one to show him dream sharing. It wasn’t thieving back then— just innocent exploration in each other’s minds.

Professor Fraldarius was a leading expert in dream technology and theory. It made sense that his sons followed him through the industry.

Felix showed him how the PASIV machine worked, how to rig the IVs, how to prepare and administer the chemicals to induce lucid dreaming.

He explained to Sylvain how the dreams worked. “You can lucidly dream on your own. But in dream sharing, you have two people. First, the dreamer. That’s me. I design the dream, the layout, the appearance and the details. Then there’s the subject, you. You populate the dream with projections— people, animals and monsters, and information. If I’m clever enough, I can interrogate one of your projections and find out what you had for dinner. But if I’m flagged as an intruder, your projections will eat me alive.”

It was all overwhelming and otherworldly, but the words did not compare to the dreams themselves.

That first dream was mesmerising.

Felix dreamed of famous landmarks he’d been to. Nothing was ever exactly right, and Felix patiently explained why. Replicating the real world in dreams was dangerous. If you become unable to distinguish between what was real and what was not, then it could destroy your sanity.

“Never,” he said. “Let yourself forget what’s up there, and what’s down here.”

***

“We’ve got a job,” said Dorothea.

Sylvain looked up from his book. “Where?”

“London.”

Bernadetta’s eyes lit up. “Does that mean we’re finally leaving this place? It’s _ so_ loud here.”

“At least Mombasa isn’t _ boring._ What’re we doing in London?” Sylvain asked.

“Some businessman hired us. Dimitri Blaiddyd. Ever heard of him? Wants us to steal something from his step-sister’s mind. She’s a business magnate,” she said, stopping to pull up photos on her tablet. She made a small considering noise. “Oh wow, she’s kinda hot.”

Sylvain frowned, took the tablet and adjusted his glasses while he skimmed the details.

“We shouldn’t take it,” he said, after a moment of consideration. “Dimitri has his own dream thieves on retainer. They’re really good. Either this project is so dangerous that he doesn’t want to risk his own people on it, or his step-sister is hyper-militarized and they need specialists.”

We're not ready for that kind of mission after what happened on the last one.”

Their last mission, in China, was one of the few they'd massively blundered. Their target was a militarised businessman; someone who had hired an extractor to train their subconscious to be able to defend against intruders.

Both the client and the victim were out for blood. Unfortunately, it meant they had to lay low in Mombasa. Bernadetta and Dorothea were still hurt by the chaotic escape.

Sylvain always put the health and safety of his team first. All the money in the world didn’t matter if they weren’t alive to spend it. Unfortunately, his team was rarely in it _ just _ for the money.

“Nothing wrong with a challenge,” said Petra.

“It might not be that complicated. It could be that he doesn’t want the job linked to him. You know those corporate types- sneaky,” said Bernadetta. She sounded contemplative. Sylvain knew she was going to be up the next night pinching all the information she could about the Blaiddyds.

Sighing, he gave in. “What does he wanna know, Dora?”

She grinned. “See, that’s where it gets interesting. This isn't just corporate espionage. He wants to know if his sister was involved in their mother’s death.”

***

Here’s the thing; Dimitri hired Felix and his crew on retainer once they made a name for themselves. It was an open secret in the dream scene. They didn’t just do corporate heists- Dimitri had a soft spot for the environment, children and women, and would often send Felix and company on vigilante missions.

Here’s something that not many people know; Dimitri offered to hire Sylvain onto the team.

Sylvain had declined.

He knew better than anyone that Felix didn’t want him around. Besides, by then he had his own crew— it wasn’t like he could abandon them.

Still, sometimes, he thought about it. _ What if? _ But he never let himself think too hard, lest he lost himself in his dreams.

***

There was a place called _ limbo _.

It was a place in the most liminal sense, the ultimate dream-sharing space.

“Raw, infinite subconscious,” Felix had described it. “There’s nothing there, except what was left by the ones who came before you. There, you can create anything. There are no rules. But time runs differently. It’s so deep down in the dream levels that five minutes up here might be weeks or even months down there.”

Time flowed differently in dreams- on the first level of dreams, a real-life hour would be many more. If you induced another dream on the first level and entered a dream within a dream, time flowed even slower. The deeper you went into the dream levels, the more time you gained.

“Glenn spends a lot of time there. It’s really good for dream training. The stuff you can do- it’s amazing.”

Here’s what Sylvain learnt; Limbo was paradise, hell and purgatory.

Indeed, Felix was right. It was a void hungry for creation. In the few minutes he was asleep— or the days he spent in limbo, he pushed his limits to the furthest extent. Felix and Glenn were in their element; they loved building fantastical things and Sylvain enjoyed watching them banter, squabble and build on each other’s ideas.

At the end of the dream, Felix showed him to a small cottage on the bank of a river, surrounded by a field of pale pink wildflowers. The surroundings were beautiful, but nothing compared to Felix, who seemed golden in the bright sun, hair flowing in the non-existent wind, lips curled up in a rare smile.

The place was strangely familiar; he had a faint impression of it in the back of his head.

“Do you recognise this?” Felix asked, uncharacteristically bashful. He didn’t blush or stammer, but acutely avoided Sylvain’s eyes.

It was something from their childhood, he was sure. He thought about it a little, going through the mental catalogue of their early shenanigans.

“From when I was ten, that time we stayed in cabins in the woods? Because my dad thought he was too good for tents.”

“Yeah. I changed a few things—”

“There’s only one cabin,” Sylvain said. “Our cabin.”

His brows scrunched at the sight of the river and the flowers. “I don’t remember the river being this close— or that many flowers being in bloom.”

“Yeah, yeah. So what if I took some artistic liberties with it?”

“Alright, I’ll bite. Are you trying to show off your memory? I already know yours is far better than mine.”

“No. I wanted to ask, if. If you remembered that promise—”

Butterflies swam in his stomach in anticipation. Felix wasn’t very sentimental and was the least romantic person he knew, but Sylvain could guess why he would want to bring this up.

Sylvain made many promises to many people, most of which went out his mouth and into the void. But he did remember one promise, one he made years and years ago. “The one we made near here? That was a long time ago.”

A myriad of emotions scrambled on Felix’s face, capped off with embarrassment in the tips of his red ears. “Forget it. It was a dumb question anyway.”

His boots scuffed the wildflowers beneath as he practically stomped away.

“Felix— wait, don’t run off!” called Sylvain. He gripped Felix’s sleeve and pulled him around to face him. His elation curdled at his mistake. “Hey, Fe, I didn’t mean it like that. You just surprised me.”

“Just forget I bought it up, okay?” Ah, Felix was channelling his inner hedgehog again. Even if Sylvain found him adorable… it didn’t mean he wasn’t prickly. He tried to pull Felix into a hug, which he accepted with no small amount of manhandling.

“Felix…”

In a small voice, muffled by Sylvain’s collarbone, Felix whispered, “Please.”

“Fine. But bring it up when you’re ready, okay?”

But he was never ready.

Sylvain would wait months for Felix to even mention this again, but it was as if Felix magically locked away his feelings in a box. Sylvain wished he could do the same.

Months later, he heard Felix complain about how listless his brother was, which was Felix-talk for his concern about his brother’s mental health.

“He’s been acting so weirdly since the last time he went under. Dad says they made a mistake. He fell into limbo and forgot he was dreaming. Dad had to go back after him and pull him out. But he’s not all there. It’s like he’s waiting for something.”

Waiting, waiting like Sylvain.

A month later, while watching a thunderstorm, Sylvain heard a sorrowful knock at his door.

Opening it, Sylvain found a soaked, shivering Felix in front of his apartment. He had never seen him look so small.

Wordlessly, Felix clutched at him. He didn’t cry; if he did, Sylvain couldn’t tell through the salt of the rain.

“Felix, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Felix kept shaking his head— faint little whimpers escaped his throat, but he didn’t say a word. His heart seized in panic.

Sylvain took him in from the rain and turned up the heater. He helped Felix change, and dried off his hair, constantly murmuring, “It’s okay, it’s okay sweetheart.”

Felix didn’t say a word until Sylvain had him in his bed, drawing comforting circles into his hands. He leaned into Sylvain’s body heat incrementally, but his eyes were blank. Sylvain couldn’t see himself in them.

Finally, Felix spoke, “My brother is dead.”

Their future died with him.

***

His team worked hard and played hard; they took vacations quite often. Sylvain found solace in his regular travel for work in and of itself. He found extended weeks spent doing nothing made him restless— an artefact of his student days, and the days he spent following Felix around learning anything and everything he could about dreams.

Occasionally, when the girls were on extremely long vacations, he would contract himself out to clients and teams. Not many would say no to a skilled forger, and Sylvain’s prices were very fair.

However, Dorothea started to tease him after the first time he’d come home from a freelance mission with Felix and didn’t stop. Really, it only got worse after the Lorenz job.

He remembered stumbling into their hotel suite, living out the ache in his muscles and migraine in his temples. The receptionist had given him a long once-over before she gave him his keycard, and it wasn’t an appreciative one. He looked like a bit of a mess, wearing a shirt he’d worn tiny holes into and sporting truly terrible hat hair.

“The extractor from your last job called. Some guy called Lorenz?”

He adored Dora, really, he did. But sometimes he wished she’d just give him a break. Sylvain huffed and flopped back on the hotel bed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She laughed. “Said he’s never trusting my recommendations again since my taste must be atrocious if I’m working with you. Do I _ want _to know what happened?”

Sylvain peaked out from beneath the pillows. “The job went fine, didn’t it? We all got paid. He’s overreacting.”

“See, I thought you’d say that! Bernie, tell him what you told me,” she said, sounding awfully chipper.

A slither of foreboding crept underneath his skin. He hated it when Bernadetta used her powers for evil.

“Oh, well, I was talking to Linhardt and he said that Marianne heard Lorenz complaining about how he had to deal with you and some guy named Felix practically torturing each other for weeks on end.”

“Torturing is not the word I would use,” he said, offended.

“I have understanding your flirting is like torture,” said Petra, humming happily as she braided Dorothea’s hair.

“I wasn’t flirting!”

Dorothea looked to Bernadetta and made a ‘go on’ hand movement.

“Lorenz also said you barely looked at Lysithea or Hilda ... the entire time. And then he compared you to a lost puppy. He also said your squabbling was unbearable and unprofessional.”

It wasn’t unbearable. _ Sylvain _ was one who had to deal with Felix’s cold shoulder and sharp words. Sure they had a massive fight… but it wasn’t anything new. If _ he _ thought it was fine, then Lorenz really needed a reality check.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Felix and I just have some bad history.”

“Wait, history? What, like an ex? That’s the first time I’m hearing about this,” Dorothea said, tilting forward towards Sylvain in a show of interest. Petra tsked at her and followed her hair with her hands.

“I do not have memories of this.”

“Oh! Looks like you guys went to college together. Well, before you both dropped out.”

“Bernie, I told you to stop cyberstalking me,” he groaned.

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding very apologetic at all. She meekly put away her tablet. “But didn’t we promise that there would be no secrets between us?”

He threw his pillow at her. She shrieked and fell off her bean bag.

Generously, he waited until she righted herself back up. Dorothea and Petra watched him with keen eyes. There was an air of expectation.

Then, quietly, he said, “We were childhood friends until I moved away. We reconnected at college and he introduced me to dream sharing-”

“Wait, this is the guy who taught you advanced dream sharing?” Bernie asked, interjecting. She was hugging the pillow now, like a child waiting for a story.

When they started out, he’d known the most about dreaming out of all of them. He might not have known the industry or people- but he knew how to push the limits of dreams like no one else.

“Yeah. His dad was a professor in dream theory. Felix studied architecture though. I guess it worked out. Now he designs dreams.”

Dorothea’s voice was soft as she asked, “What happened? If you’re not friends anymore.”

“I left,” he said, and looked down at his hands, at the ring on his finger. “He’s never forgiven me since.”

***

Sylvain was the one who introduced the concepts of tokens to his team. A unique item which held a secret only the owner knew of— a token was your last line of dream defence. It was the easiest way you could check if you were in someone else’s dream.

No matter how well their pointman researched, it was impossible for them to get everything 100% right. The moment you realised something was wrong was the moment you realised you were trapped, that you weren't _ safe _. They might be able to dream the colour of your curtains, the formation of your rooms and the way your books line up on your shelves, but they wouldn’t be able to replicate a well-designed token.

Dorothea’s token was a die, which when thrown, would always land on a certain number. She’d made it herself, and weighted it just-so. Even Sylvain didn’t know what number it always landed on. If she pulled it out in a dream and checked the weight, then she’d know immediately if she was awake or if she was in an environment created by someone else’s mind.

Felix had a pocket watch, a gift from his father. It was very small, barely bigger than the ball of his thumb. Sylvain has never seen him open it while awake— so he had no idea what awaited inside. It was probably weighted too.

His own token was a ring, that he never took off unless he thought he was dreaming; it had small little divots in the side, barely noticeable to the eye, and a Latin inscription on the inside, _ “Dilectus meus mihi, et ego illi”. _

He didn’t know what it meant. He skipped his Latin classes as a child. But he would never forget who he got it from.

***

After Glenn died, Felix’s father forbade him from touching dream tech.

Sylvain saw what it did to him. Felix loved dreaming. However, an unfortunate side effect of using a PASIV regularly was that your own dreams became rare and sporadic. When they did appear, they were likely to become nightmares.

Despite seeming emotionally stable, he seldom slept and deteriorated physically. He’d insist on working out constantly and threw himself into his studies- not of his coursework, but of dream theory. Sylvain had to drag him to bed and the food hall and failing that, bought him plates of food and offered him a shoulder to rest on.

Felix wasn’t angry, or especially sad. He was just listless, walking the line between dazed and overworked.

Sylvain had dark thoughts. Wasn’t this what he wanted? A Felix who was entirely attached and dependent on him? He would be a liar if he denied that— but he hated seeing Felix like this. He wanted to be able to help him, to make him smile again.

His Felix with the beautiful dreams was gone- and the boy he left behind pushed away anyone who tried to reach out. And yet, he couldn’t let him go.

***

Their meeting with Dimitri was… concerning, to say the least. He’d changed since Sylvain last say him in college. He’d grown broader and darker, his hair falling into his eyes. He no longer smiled, not even a facsimile. Instead, his mouth was held permanently into a slight frown.

“Sylvain,” he said in greeting. His voice was hoarser than he remembered. He rose from his desk and offered a hand for him to shake. Amused at the formality, Sylvain took it.

Dimitri was flanked by two familiar faces- Dedue, his bodyguard since college, a warm but stern man, and Felix Fraldarius himself.

"They're here to debrief you,” he said when Sylvain sent him a questioning glance in their company’s direction.

Dedue slightly inclined his head. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Sylvain smiled his trademark grin. “Likewise.”

Felix just looked at him with narrowed eyes. Not much had changed since the last time they’ve seen each other, then.

“As expected, that witch is proving to be an elusive target. She refuses to provide us with her secrets,” said Dimitri in his gravelly voice. The venom he spoke with surprised Sylvain. “I trust that with your expertise, you’ll have better luck than Felix.”

Felix looked even angrier at that comment but didn’t say a word.

Dimitri inclined his head at Felix, just slightly acknowledging him. “You’ll brief Sylvain on the case, won’t you, Felix?”

“I’m ecstatic at the prospect,” Felix said. For a man whose livelihood was built on lying and thieving, he didn’t sound very genuine.

When he glanced at him, Sylvain could feel his eyes boring into his soul.

***

Sylvain knew Felix was upset. Lately, it seemed he was always upset. Sylvain couldn’t blame him. Even though Miklan was a shitty brother, that didn’t mean Sylvain wouldn’t be upset if he died. Felix and Glenn were very close, almost like twins. For all of Felix’s vitriol and venom towards his brother, Sylvain knew that Glenn carried a part of Felix that no one could replace- not even himself.

He always tried to cheer Felix up when he could. It was difficult when his parents were breathing down his neck to do well and to bring home a suitable girl. Felix took up all of his time— he never asked for Sylvain’s company, but Sylvain _ wanted _ to be there for him.

Seeing him so sullen, Sylvain offered to drive him out to the nearby lake. They sat there from sunset to dusk, eventually watching the stars go by. It reminded him of their childhood a bit; Felix’s father often took them camping in the woods and taught them how to navigate with constellations.

"He gave me my mother's ring. It was supposed to be Glenn's, when he got married," Felix said quietly. His fist trembled, and he refused to look at the box. Sylvain watched the angry line of his shoulders, the tenseness drawing on him like a brand.

Despite the lack of heat in his words, Sylvain knew he was furious. What was Rodrigue thinking? It had been months after Glenn’s death, but it did not mean that Felix was able to process it all.

“What do you want to do about it? Throw it back into his face? Into the lake?”

He stared out into the water while he waited for Felix’s response.

“No,” said Felix, surprisingly resolute. “Glenn would’ve killed me if I did that. I’ll keep it. As a reminder of all of this.” Felix gestured with a wide movement, encompassing Sylvain and the surrounds. Deep down, Sylvain knew what he meant- he wanted to bottle up his feelings for Glenn, his prohibition on dreams and his time with Sylvain into a neat little memento.

Felix’s approach to problems was very unique. He met them head-on, trying to fix them immediately- but he never processed them emotionally, instead choosing to let them simmer at the back of his mind. He probably thought that he’d be less likely to pull others down with him this way— but he miscalculated how much he’d hurt his friends by doing so.

Maybe one day, he’d be able to move on, taking that suggestion from Sylvain and tossing the ring into a lake.

Hopefully that day, Sylvain would be there with him, by his side.

***

Tracking down Felix wasn’t easy. It was the opposite. Once he had heard of a man matching Felix’s name and description in the dream industry, he called in a few favours to try to find him.

Felix had slammed the door in his face, at first. His offers to join and support Felix’s team were burnt down and scattered into the wind.

Over the next few months, Sylvain did what he could to glue himself to projects he knew would fascinate Felix. He made himself very available as an emergency fill-in for teams- especially Felix’s. He did that less now, after seeing Felix tearing into Annette for agreeing to let him onto a project.

He chipped away at him, slowly.

Felix would ignore him on some missions, speaking only when necessary. Sometimes he’d spend entire weeks in vitriol and anger. Often he’d look a little like someone broke his heart. Sylvain wasn’t sure he wasn’t doing more harm than good, but Sylvain was _ selfish _ . He didn’t think he could have Felix— he didn’t think Felix would ever be fine with leaving his old life behind. But he was, and goddess, how Sylvain _ wanted. _

Sometimes, Felix still looked at him as if he was a ghost, like he wasn’t truly there. That was the worst. He could deal with anger, hate and disappointment. But he couldn’t work with disbelief.

But sometimes, Felix tried to humour him. He was never friendly, but he’d trade barbs with Sylvain and tolerate his touchiness.

“Why can’t we be friends anymore?”

Felix fixed him a flat stare. “It’s amazing that you can ask that with a straight face.”

Sylvain scrutinised the building Felix dreamt up. His projections watched in curiosity, but stay relatively far away from them. How thoughtful. “You probably need to fix this staircase into something more… complicated if you want to throw off hostile projections.”

“Shut it,” said Felix. “I taught you everything you know.”

“Well, you’re not the man I thought you were if you can’t accept criticism to become stronger.”

Felix scowled. “I’m trying to keep things simple in the base dream. I don’t care about how you usually do it, but I don’t want to use flashy tricks like that unless we’re running for it.”

That made sense; despite constantly pushing himself to the limit, Felix played it very safe in dreams, only pulling out innovations when he was in a pinch. The flashier you were, the easier it was to detect you.

He watched Felix’s little, subtle movements as he moved the dream around. The piercings in his ears glittered prettily, like the fire in his eyes. A familiar ring sat on his finger.

“Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are when you’re angry?” Sylvain asked, half-joking.

Felix rolled his eyes and shoved him away. Just like old times. “I forgot what a philanderer you are.”

“Fe, you can just call me a flirt, I don’t mind.”

He turned his head and glared at him. “Don’t call me that. I’ll shoot you. I didn’t even want you to come down here.”

“Someone has to supervise. I mean, I’m technically the boss on this gig.”

“I can’t believe Seteth thought you’d be a reliable lead.”

“What can I say? I have a good reputation. People like me.”

“Seriously? They must be blind.”

“Felix, you’re so mean,” he whined as he grabbed Felix’s sleeve. It wasn’t something he did much anymore, not when his enemies waited for him to lay bare his vulnerabilities.

He waited for Felix to shove him off and tease him like he used to, but it didn’t come.

Felix paused but didn’t respond. He stopped moving and warping the dreamscape; the ever-changing buildings slowed down to a simmer.

“Fuck,” he said. He sounded almost choked up.

Sylvain’s brow scrunched up in concern. “Hey, Fe. C’mon, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

His hands gently soothed Felix’s arms.

Despite the close contact, Felix did not move.

“I can’t do this. You might think it’s normal to just walk in and out of people’s lives. But it’s not. You left when I needed you. I thought you were dead. And now you’re acting like none of this ever happened. We can’t just go _ back _, Sylvain.”

Sylvain felt a flare of confusion and irritation. “What do you want me to do? I’ve tried giving you space, I’ve tried being friendly. Tell me what you want. I can be anyone you want me to be.”

“How many times have you used those lines on girls? On your targets and marks? I can’t _ trust _you anymore.”

He shook his head and pulled away from Sylvain. “I want to forget you. But you can’t give me that.”

***

The day he fell into bed with Felix was simultaneously the best and worst day of his life.

Here’s the setting; they got a bit drunk after the Seteth job.

After Felix’s outburst, the two mostly avoided each other. If Felix really didn’t want him around, who was he to say no to that?

But then Felix showed up to his room with a couple of bottles of wine.

“To celebrate,” he said, and Sylvain was so fucking blindsided that he didn’t think too hard about it.

He let Felix sit by his window and ply him with alcohol and compliments: blunt, seemingly honest words.

He watched him play with his hair, barely suppressing the urge to reach out and tuck a wayward strand behind his ear.

Felix was beautiful: this Sylvain knew. His piercings were alluring— he’d truly changed, Sylvain thought, fixated on Felix's one trailing earring. It drew attention to his delicate collarbone, the open neck of his shirt. Probably from the first time he saw him in college— he knew Felix would ruin him forever.

Now, emboldened by the wine and the heat in his veins, he found it hard to resist him.

He watched, and really, it was pretty much an otherworldly experience, as Felix moved towards him, and delicately placed a hand on his thigh. Felix didn’t seduce him like the other men he’d brought to his bed. There were no shy smiles, blushing or flirtatious laughs. He managed to convey his want for Sylvain in the coy dip of his lashes, in the slight, open way he held himself, as if inviting Sylvain to approach him instead.

Sylvain’s brain stuttered. He’d never seen Felix act like that before. When had he learnt that?

Then, he leaned in and how could Sylvain resist? They stumbled across the room, leaving upturned bottles on the sill and carpet. He kissed Felix like a starving man, stopping only to desperately mouth at his neck.

As if in response, Felix pulled away and stared straight into his eyes. It burned.

“One night,” Felix promised him. “And I’ll leave everything behind.”

He couldn't bring himself to say no. Felix was someone he had wanted for a long, long time. If he was going to leave him anyway, Sylvain vowed to brand himself onto his skin. He wouldn’t let Felix _ forget _him.

He remembered the heat, the slick. Felix gasping his name, his hands and fingers scratching against Sylvain’s back and tangled in his hair.

Sylvain remembered the tight feeling in his chest, looking down at Felix. He looked like a mess, his cheeks ruddy, eyes teary and hair messed up, and yet he still looked like the most beautiful thing in the world.

He felt so incredibly solid- almost heavy, wound up in tight muscle. Sylvain liked it. He loved the weight of Felix in his arms, reminding him this was real, that Felix was his, even for a moment.

When they had finished, he cuddled up to Felix, who took it in stride despite his grumbling. Listening to the cars below them, Sylvain traced his scars and freckles until he fell asleep.

When he woke up, Felix was gone.

All he had left was a ring on the bedside table.

***

Unsurprisingly, Felix was not a great debriefer.

He sneered. “You won’t find anything. Edelgard is clean. Get out and do a job that will actually go somewhere.”

“Felix, you know, it’s okay to admit that you don’t have the capability for certain missions.”

“No— you listen to me.” Felix’s eyes were clear, burning bright with honeyed heat.

Sylvain stopped and listened. He could never really say no to Felix.

“Dimitri is in a shitty place right now. Do you want to know how many times he’s made us steal dreams from Edelgard? Too many to count. We’re lucky we haven’t been stabbed or shot by her bodyguards. We know she’s not involved. The stubborn boar _ refuses _ to listen.

“Go home,” he said. “Leave us to deal with him. You don’t owe him any loyalty and you’re good at leaving people behind. What’s stopping you now?”

The words hit him like a hammer and settled into his throat like a leaden weight. His tongue stuck to the roof of his dry mouth.

His next words came out in a trance as if his mouth was running on auto-pilot. “You don’t get to say that when you’re the one constantly pushing me away.”

His outburst is met with silence. Felix was probably suppressing his rage, his insults— Sylvain didn’t care.

“Dimitri is my friend,” said Sylvain, finally. “We’ve taken the job. We’ll see it through.”

***

Sylvain took the ring and carried it with him. He made it his token. It made sense; no one but Felix knew its specifications. The weight was something he could tamper with a bit to ensure only he knew about it.

The ring was a reminder, not of that night, but of his failures. Maybe if he managed to talk to Felix before everything happened and was honest about his feelings, desires and plans, none of this would have ever happened. It seemed too late to fix it now, when Felix would barely acknowledge his presence.

Like all the jobs before it, when they worked that job with Lorenz, Felix either didn’t notice the ring or didn’t care.

Sylvain didn’t know why he left it with him. If he were to guess, he’d say it some sort of convoluted symbolism. Sylvain and the ring were part of his old life, and Felix wanted neither in his current one.

The job itself wasn’t too hard. Lorenz had a reputation for being fussy, but it really wasn’t anything Sylvain wasn’t used to. He had worked with many difficult clients and extractors before. Sure, Lorenz was a bit fussy and pedantic, but he was patient when it came to making sure the work was getting done, wasn’t stingy on paying for research expenses and wasn’t a terrible guy all around.

Hilda and Lysithea were great to work with, as usual. Lysithea was their architect this time around, and Lorenz did his own pointwork. Hilda and Felix were just there to assist in the dream itself. The project became more complicated than they thought it would, leading to their last-minute recruitment.

It was initially supposed to be a simple, one level dream, but Lorenz and Sylvain both agreed it would be more effective to go for two levels. The target was militarised and a real piece of work, so they needed something a bit more thorough to succeed. But more dream levels meant more people.

Hilda was an old friend of Lorenz’s, but Sylvain was the one who masochistically recommended Felix.

He’d bribed Annette with a lifetime supply of patisserie cakes if she agreed to tell him whenever Felix was available to freelance. It didn’t happen often anymore, ever since Dimitri had hired him on retainer— he was definitely kept busy. But Annette and Ingrid would force him to take breaks from the team occasionally, insisting he go on holiday and inevitably turned a blind eye when he would go ahead and join other teams on more exciting and exhilarating projects.

The missions that Dimitri sent them on were often quite dull, Annette had explained to him. Even though running dangerous missions was not anyone else’s idea of a vacation, Sylvain knew Felix and his adrenaline-chasing tendencies.

There was a reason why Felix grudgingly kept working with him. He always had the best missions; fun, challenging, but never impossible. Besides that, he was very, very good. At least Felix could trust him in the professional sense, if nothing else.

Lorenz had taken one glance at Felix’s portfolio and availability and hired him on the spot, a decision that he would insist he regretted for months to come, over annoying phone calls with Dorothea and Sylvain.

After the night where Felix left him with the ring, Felix’s attitude towards Sylvain did change. He tried to remain as professional as he could, endeavouring not to spend any time alone with Sylvain. He would acknowledge his input and ideas, but never made small talk, not even hellos or goodbyes. Sylvain couldn’t stand that, so he made it his life's mission to badger and annoy him into anger, frustration— whatever emotional response he could get out of him, really.

Hilda watched him do so in amusement. Lysithea and Lorenz berated him in exasperation whenever he managed to get Felix to storm off. Whenever he felt he’d perhaps gone too far, he’d make Felix a cup of pine needle tea or delivered him homemade skewers, spicy fish dishes, and other hearty food. Felix never ate any of it in front of him, but in the mornings he’d find the dishes cleaned and none of the food scraps in the bin.

One day, after a day of planning with Lorenz, he walked in on Felix sleeping on a cot in the warehouse. Despite his overworking tendencies, Felix did sleep regularly— that was not significant on its own. What caught his eye and concerned him was the PASIV he was hooked up to. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd seen Felix using one in his downtime.

He waited for the dream to time out— he didn’t have to wait for long. It wasn’t a chore; Felix looked strangely peaceful like this, as if his trials and tribulations had given him a momentary reprieve. Watching him wake up was a delight— perhaps Sylvain was a creep, but he savoured the soft way Felix rubbed at his eyes and yawned.

“So you can’t dream without this stuff, huh? Drug habits are hard to kick.”

At the sound of his voice, Felix violently removed his IV and sent him a dirty glare. “Mind your own business. I was practising.”

“Right. And that’s why I see you constantly hooked up to this thing. Can you still dream without it?”

“Why ask questions you already know the answer to?”

“Because I care about you? Because I don’t want to see you destroying yourself with unhealthy habits?”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who basically abandoned his friends and family without a word. You never cared about me.”

“How could you say that? I did everything for you!”

“That’s bullshit. You used me to satisfy your own ego. You liked taking care of me, you liked seeing me be pathetic because it meant that for once, you weren’t the biggest fuckup in the room.”

Sylvain froze. His brain stuttered.

A startled laugh bubbled out of him, incredulous. He couldn't think of a single word to say.

Maybe he was wrong to think he could ever mend bridges with Felix. How could he? He burned everything to the ground when he left.

He took a deep breath and turned to leave. He wouldn't get anything from this, except more heartache.

“Sylvain— wait. I didn’t mean it— I don’t…”

Felix did look sorry, but Sylvain couldn't see past the 'hey, your childhood best friend clearly hates your guts'.

He gathered his thoughts. Fine, if Felix was deciding to be honest, Sylvain could also tell him what he really thought.

“You know, for the longest time, I was so worried about you. Worried about you losing your grip between dreams and reality, _ like your brother _ ,” he said, savouring the look of utter hurt on Felix’s face. “Clearly _ I _ was the one losing my grip if I thought you had any human empathy left in you.”

He turned away then— he would finish the job for Lorenz, but for once, he’d be more than happy not to see Felix’s face for a few months.

The rest of the job had Sylvain avoiding Felix, not the other way around. The others had the tact not to mention it.

***

Sylvain had many safe houses and hidden getaways. His team was privy to some of them— such as his house in Ku-ran-gai National Park, Australia.

It was one of his favourite places. THe house was surrounded by trees and craggy rocks. He could fool himself into thinking he was living in the pristine wilderness— while actually being a 30-minute drive from the nearest supermarket.

It wasn’t a terrible place to recuperate and keep a low profile, especially when he didn’t want to spend time with actual people.

He whittled away his time reading and writing, watching terrible Netflix shows and judging the unhealthy habits of other people online instead of his own terrible, terrible life choices.

Terrible life choices such as jumping off a bridge without a second plan and breaking his leg, but he digressed. While he was out of commission, he did a bit of niche work researching for clients and assisting in designing heists for inexperienced dream extractors.

His own team were on a bit of a break. Petra had gone back to Cypress to visit her family— Dorothea had created a bit of a rift between herself and Petra when she refused to go with her.

She and Bernadetta had abandoned Sylvain and went around working with high-flying teams. Sylvain wasn’t bitter at all. Not even a little bit. Not even when he heard that they ended up working with Felix.

“Their pointwoman was sick and couldn’t go under with us. She kept turning up to help Bernie research until Felix locked her out of the building. Then he took her home and took care of her. For a brute, he’s quite sweet.”

“Is that so?” asked Sylvain, feigning nonchalance.

Dorothea hummed in agreement. “I can’t believe you like this place, it’s basically in the middle of nowhere. We had to drive on a dirt track to get here.”

Sylvain sighed. “It’s still a part of metropolitan Sydney. Not all of us like to hide in noisy cities. Sometimes I want peace and quiet.”

“I have to agree, Dora. Even if this place is crawling with snakes and spiders...”

“Do you want to hear more about what happened?” Dorothea asked him. “We’re not getting much out of this. You’re the one who nagged for details about him.”

“I don't nag.”

“Oh really? I distinctly remember that every time you called, you asked us, ‘How’s Felix?’ Every single time.”

“Hey, if I don’t use the resources available to me, then what’s the point?”

Bernie kicked his beanbag. “Don’t call us resources, you meanie.”

Sylvain grumbled and righted his beanbag up. His leg was still very freshly healed, so he had spent most of his time lounging around in his various soft chairs.

Dorothea smiled at their antics, sat down by the fireplaces and generously recounted the tales of the past few weeks.

“He badmouthed you whenever we brought you up— sorry Sylvain, but we really couldn’t put in a good word for you.”

“I mean, that’s fine. We haven’t really gotten along since the Lorenz job. He’s barely acknowledged my presence since then. And honestly? I can’t say I’ve forgiven him for what he said.”

Dorothea gave a long hmm as if she was thinking of something particularly interesting. Sylvain waited in mild trepidation. “I suppose I find it a little strange that you seem so invested in someone that isn’t us.”

“My world doesn’t revolve around you, Dora.”

“Well, I thought you would be interested to know— he did ask us how you were."

Sylvain perked up. "He did?"

The corners of Dorothea's mouth twitched into an amused smile. "Yes, and he shook his head and called you an idiot when we told him how you broke your leg."

"...You're really just out to embarrass me, aren't you?"

"We can't help that it's the truth. He's a nice boy though, I can see why you're so obsessed with him. He’s absolutely adorable."

"I'm not _ obsessed _ with him. I'm just concerned. I'm not really expecting anything out of this."

"You keep telling yourself that, Sylvain," pitched in Bernadetta.

"You guys are bullying me and my poor, fragile maiden heart," he said petulantly.

"On the bright side, it's definitely not one-sided. He does care about you, even just a little bit."

"Yes! Don't give up hope. Maybe one day you'll be able to hold a civil conversation with him."

"Okay, that's it," he said. He rose up and pounced on her, tickling Bernadetta until she begged him to stop.

***

It all went to shit when a projection of Felix appeared in Sylvain’s dreams.

This is how Sylvain dealt with emotions; he let them burn brightly until there was nothing left. He didn’t “bottle them away”, as Dorothea once accused him.

But his lingering feelings for Felix didn’t burn away. They grew greater and greater until the burden on his heart created a shadow on his psyche.

He’s heard stories of other dreamers with _ shades _— husbands who had killed their wives, so overcome with guilt that it materialised in their dreams.

Sylvain’s projection wasn’t hostile. A shade would interfere with missions and attack the dreamer. At least in his dreams, Felix wasn’t out to hurt him.

This Felix never physically harmed him or intentionally drew attention to his team during missions. It simply watched from afar, never quite approaching him. Petra didn't notice- she rarely went far into the dreamscape with them. Bernadetta sent him concerned looks after missions ended. After the third time she caught him, Dorothea pulled him aside.

"Do we have a problem, Sylvain?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Cut the crap, I know you're lying. When did your _ friend _start appearing in your dreams?"

“Look, not long. Just three months.”

"Three months ago! And you never thought it was a good idea to tell us? You know what shades do to dreamscapes!"

“It’s not a shade,” he argued. “It’s just a projection. It’s never said a word to me, or tried to approach me.”

“Sylvain, it might start as a projection, but that doesn’t mean it won’t get worse,” she said, her voice drawing sharp in concern.

It was annoying that everyone seemed to think they knew better than him. Always, constantly with the hounding and badgering.

“What are you going to do?” he snarled. “Take me off the team?”

She slapped him in the arm. “It’s not just about the missions, you asshole! We’re your friends. We’re worried about you!”

He did feel bad for snapping at her— she was just worried about his state of mind. But it was frustrating to think about. It wasn’t something he could control. Ironically, his own dreams were the only ones he had no say in. Even if he tried pushing Felix out of his mind, it never worked.

If he said Felix only haunted him in his dreams, he’d be lying. Perhaps it was fortunate that he rarely saw him.

Distance makes the heart grow forgetful.

***

It’s a recurring thought which graces Sylvain’s mind; despite everything, Felix had only abandoned him once. Sylvain was the one who dragged him down into the mud with him, led him on and left him in the dust.

He used Felix. He remembered that accusation- but it wasn’t completely true. He didn’t like seeing Felix _ be pathetic _, but he liked feeling like his presence actually made a fucking difference in someone’s life. For a long time, that person was Felix. It gave him the incentive to stick around, be present, maybe actually make something out of himself, not for anyone else’s sake, but for his own.

Maybe— maybe he thought he could just finish up his degree, and convince Felix to leave with him, travelling far away until their parents couldn’t find them.

But despite their barbed words and awkward silences, he knew Felix and Rodrigue cared about each other. Felix didn’t explicitly want to leave his father alone, not so soon after Glenn died.

And unlike Sylvain, Felix had a promising future in a career he actually liked. Sylvain didn’t want to pry him away from that. A life on the run with no support would be hard. Maybe he would be happy like that, working shitty short-term jobs, bone-tired, coming home to someone he loved— but would Felix?

He knew he couldn’t ask that of him. Felix was only just starting to recover— he was reaching out to Ingrid and Dimitri, rather than simply pushing everyone away and barely tolerating Sylvain’s presence.

Asking him to leave was out of the question (especially because Sylvain knew he would probably say yes— and if he did not, he would convince Sylvain to stay). But Sylvain couldn’t stay. His parents were unrelenting; if he didn’t leave as soon as he could, he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t wake up one day to find himself badgered into a shotgun marriage and placed at the helm of one of the vilest companies he knew of.

So he left.

Without a word, he didn’t look back. He knew that if he had said anything to Felix, he wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to leave.

It wasn’t forever, he promised himself. Maybe, one day, when he was stable and happy, he could try to get back in contact with him. Goddess knows Felix would be even more out of his league by then, but it was fine.

Sylvain could deal with just being an old friend— even an acquaintance if that meant that Felix would remain happy.

He thought about it quite often now, looking back on his mistakes and life choices. He regretted his underestimation of the value that Felix had placed in him, and mourned the loss of it.

***

Once he resolved to decidedly avoid Felix for the rest of the mission, he decided to go to a source of actual information— Ingrid.

“You know, I barely remember you from when we were little. Except that you were a troublemaker. I guess some things never change.”

“But we had some good times together in college, didn’t we?”

He smiled his trademark grin, but she looked decidedly unimpressed.

Ingrid was Glenn’s college sweetheart. It was a pretty cookie-cutter relationship. Sylvain wasn’t sure that they were in love, but they cared for each other deeply. After Glenn’s death, Ingrid apparently swore off dream-sharing and became a bit of a recluse for months after.

Eventually, she, Felix and Dimitri started to heal together. Sylvain thought it was a pity that the dream-sharing abstinence didn’t stick; Ingrid was the most law-abiding out of the three of them and had great potential for legitimate success.

He admired her steadfast bearing and straightforwardness. Her attention to detail was scary, especially when he was the subject of it. He definitely didn’t miss being cornered and interrogated by her. She used to constantly question him about his involvement in campus pranks, his questionably high marks and most notably, his intentions towards Felix.

He definitely didn’t miss this, he thought, as she boxed him in under an isolated staircase nearby Felix’s workroom.

She gave him a reassuring smile. He did not feel reassured. “Did Felix manage to brief you, or did he skip straight to the insults?”

“Why don’t you take a guess?”

She sighed. “You would know better than anyone… his temper leaves much to be desired. When he heard that you were hired onto the job, he was glad. He didn’t say anything, but it was obvious.”

“Really? I thought he hated me.”

“You _ know _ that he doesn’t. Look at all of the bullshit he lets you get away with! He’s killed people for less.”

She crossed her arms, guarded, and glared at him as if mildly affronted. Sylvain felt a wave of déjà vu.

“He trusts you not to take advantage of Dimitri but… he’s never been ready to face you. I know your history has never been great, and it’s only gotten worse after your fight last year, but could you try, maybe? To get along?”

Sylvain saw red. “You don’t think I’ve tried? I’ve done everything short of grovelling. I don’t care what he thinks about me anymore.”

She jabbed a finger into his chest. “If you expect me to believe you don’t care for him at all, then you’d be calling me a fool. Every month, you send Annette a basket of baked goods to remind her to call and tell you how Felix is doing. You send him birthday gifts and you visit Glenn’s grave every year. Would you do all of that if you didn’t care?”

“Does any of that make a difference if I can’t get him to talk to me?”

“Have you tried talking to him like a normal human being? Instead of badgering and teasing him and expecting him to be the same person that he was in college? Have you tried telling him the truth about why you left, instead of assuming that it's pointless?”

“... No.”

She smiled encouragingly. “Maybe you should. He can’t avoid you on this job— you ought to take advantage of this. I’ll talk to him about it. Despite what he says, he really doesn’t want you to fail. Annette and he have so much research that it would be irresponsible to leave your team without it.”

He really wished he could absorb some of her enthusiasm. “Why are you helping me?"

“I don’t want to have to deal with a few more years of pining if I can resolve this now,” she said, sounding both very, very tired and amused.

***

It was a blessing that Sylvain wasn’t going under with Felix.

Felix was just supposed to assist Sylvain’s team. If he found out about the look-alike projection, Sylvain wasn’t sure he would ever be able to look him in the eye again.

True to her word, Ingrid did talk to Felix and managed to get him to talk to Petra, communicating his ideas and valuable research to her.

“Edelgard is highly militarised. You really, really don’t want her to know you’re there. Getting shot gets old fast.”

“You have much correctness. Felix, you can be counting on me. I will not be letting our team down.”

Felix nodded bashfully, his expression full of exasperated fondness.

“Have you tried talking to him again?” asked Dorothea. They both watched from afar, pouring over the identity files Felix’s teams had given them. They would be doing their own research soon, but there was no reason to not accept pre-filled homework. A bit of background reading would do them some good.

“Not yet. I don’t see it going out well.”

“The way I see it, either you try to patch this mess up, or try to move on. This… really isn’t healthy.”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe if it doesn’t go so well this time I’ll actually start trying to forget about him.”

He waited until Felix finished explaining some of the dream levels he’d tailored to Edelgard’s mind. It took hours, and he skimmed the same files over and over in boredom. Even if he needed to impersonate this Fred guy, it was still a pretty dry read. He preferred watching his muses instead of memorising every single little detail he could find. The act was more natural that way.

When he saw Felix pack up his things to leave, he scrambled to do the same. Dorothea watched in amusement. Bernadetta gave him a subtle thumbs-up, and Annette tried to look like she hadn’t noticed, but was a bit of a terrible actress— she could barely suppress her smile.

He chased after him.

“Felix!”

At the sound of his voice, Felix walked a little faster, weaving in and out of hallways. Too bad for him, chasing was an unavoidable part of Sylvain’s job.

He soon caught up to Felix, jumping into the elevator with him. He was met with a glare. “You again…”

“Did you think someone else has a made a twisted hobby out of chasing you around?”

“Don’t joke about that.”

“Yeah, yeah I get it. You’re wanted internationally in 23 countries, and the CIA have a bounty out for your head.”

“What do you want, Sylvain? I’m already helping your team.”

“I just wanted to talk and apologise.”

“Yeah, because that always goes so well,” he retorted. The elevator dinged, the doors opening into the building’s surprisingly swank garage. “Goodbye, Sylvain.”

He wasn’t going to give up there. Like wolf out for blood, Sylvain followed Felix all the way to his car.

“What are you doing?” Felix asked flatly.

“I’m not leaving until you hear me out.”

Felix closed his eyes and exhaled sharply through his nose and then moved to unlock his car. “Get in. You have five minutes.”

Sylvain hopped in immediately, almost slamming the door close. He chanced a glance at Felix to see his reaction, but he just looked tired.

“Spit it out.”

“I’m sorry,” Sylvain blurted out.

“This again? Are you deaf? I already told you, I don’t want to hear it.”

Sylvain ignored him. “I’m not sorry that I left. I’m sorry that I didn’t ask you to come with me.”

Felix stared at him.

“Is this some sort of sick joke?”

“You know it’s not,” he said. He took a deep breath, grounding himself and then said, “Look, you were right. Taking care of you did make me feel better about myself. But not because it made me feel superior. It made me feel better because I felt like I was finally being useful to someone I actually cared about.”

He couldn’t really look at Felix and talk at the same time. He’s not as shameless as people thought he was; he meant it when he said he’d stop bothering Felix after this.

He kept his eyes trained on the ring on his finger. It grounded him, even now. “You probably didn’t know because I never shared it with you, but I hated myself back then.”

He closed his eyes, imagining stars at the back of his mind, letting the feeling of detached numbness try to wash over him. “I didn’t care about anything, I didn’t feel anything. I was just going through the motions my parents laid out for me. I felt trapped— I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Are you trying to me me feel sorry for you?” Felix asked.

“No, I’m just telling you the truth. Even when I spent time with you and our friends, I still felt trapped,” he said, painfully. “They held everything over my head, you know. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. There was this night at the bridge— if I hadn’t called you, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“You never said anything about this,” Felix said, and he sounded very, very small.

“How could I? You were so in control of your life when we met, and I was just some failure riding on my dad’s bank account. You already knew I was a joke, I didn’t want you to think I was some… nevermind.” He trailed off— this wasn’t supposed to be a self-depreciative monologue. “It doesn’t matter. After Glenn died, it’s not like you noticed anyway. You had bigger things to worry about.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t care!” Felix didn’t sound angry at all— he sounded hurt, his voice crumpled like he was going to cry. Sylvain didn’t want to look at him; if he looked and saw Felix’s face, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to continue.

“I know. I had this idea in my head. I always knew I was going to leave, in one way or another. I thought about asking you to come with me. But I couldn’t. I thought you’d already lost too much. I didn’t want to ask you to give up anything else. I’m sorry.”

He stopped talking. He knew his five minutes were up. But Felix hadn’t said anything; Sylvain didn’t moved to leave and Felix didn’t make any indication that he wanted him to.

Sylvain gave in and shot a glance at Felix. It was too hard to read him when he didn’t say anything and Sylvain couldn’t see him. He was looking downwards—his hair obscured most of his face.

“I left to find you,” Felix said, finally.

“No, you didn’t— ”

“I did. I knew you were alive. And I knew you couldn’t leave dream-sharing behind. You’re a junkie like the rest of us. It didn’t take long to find you. Goddess, you’re lucky your parents are incompetent idiots,” he said, in a mixture of hatred and laughter. “When I saw you, I knew you were fine. You were better off without me. _ I _ was the one who couldn’t forget you. You never needed me. Eventually, I never went back home. I loved dreaming too much to leave it behind.”

Sylvain couldn’t process that. He’d always thought that Felix left primarily to join the dream-sharing industry, sick of his overbearing father. He never thought that Felix would give him a second thought after he left. He knew it was possible for Felix to be angry or mildly worried over his disappearance. But why didn’t he think Felix would ever look for him?

Felix continued. “Maybe I did love you, back then. But I never knew how to say anything about it.”

“Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not like I didn't want to. I thought you knew anyway. I was so obvious about it.”

“You were.” Sylvain knew for a long, long time, that Felix had a crush on him. But he didn’t think it was anything more than that.

Felix chuckled self-depreciatively. “After we met again, I didn’t want you to worm your way into my life. I knew I was weak enough to let you back in. But you wouldn’t leave me alone so I thought— ” his voice cracked. “I thought that if I spent one night with you, I’d be able to forget it all.”

“That was dumb.”

“I know,” Felix said sharply.

“I’m sorry that I never told you I loved you either.”

Felix froze.

His head quickly turned towards Sylvain, his mouth agape, mouthing at silent words in disbelief.

Once he seemed to gather to get his wits back, he asked, “Is this really the time to say that?”

Sylvain shrugged, but his heart was beating at a million miles per hour. “I promised you honesty.”

It seemed like poetic justice, to finally lay himself bare when Felix had apparently done so for so long. He waited in anticipation for Felix’s response, but already the cockles of his heart were warmed by his words and the sentiment that no, Felix didn’t hate him, and maybe never did.

Felix pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need time. To process that.”

“But we’ll talk about this? Later? You won’t just run away?”

“I promise,” Felix said begrudgingly. “Now get out of my car, or I’ll take the train home, I swear to—”

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving,” Sylvain said cheerfully. He really couldn’t believe that went relatively well.

As he walked away he fiddled with his ring— the divots were just right, and the inscription felt the same under his fingers. The weighted side coordinated with the right words— it wasn’t a dream.

***

Despite the advice they had gotten from Felix’s team, infiltrating Edelgard’s dream was a challenge. Dorothea masked herself as one of Edelgards’s old teachers, while Sylvain became Ferdinand Von Aegir, a close friend and son of one of Edelgard’s company executives.

They did a very thorough job, choosing to jump straight into a two-level dream, which they rarely implemented.

One the second and deepest level of the dream, Sylvain tricked Edelgard into creating an imaginary safe filled with her secrets. Dorothea distracted her; he cracked it open. But she had too many secrets— it was impossible to read them all.

However, thoughts were like treasures. The more importance the subject has placed on it, the flashier it became. Murdering one’s one mother wasn’t a minor secret; even in a huge safe, the file should be reasonably eye-catching.

They sifted through thoroughly and quickly, but couldn’t find much of interest— just piles of notes of an underground group named Those Who Slithered In the Dark, confirming what Felix’s team had found before.

When they woke up, they didn’t go straight to Dimitri; they couldn’t, not after such a devastating failure. They shuffled back into the warehouse they planned the heist in, where Ingrid and two of Dimitri’s aides, Dedue and Ashe, awaited them. Sylvain’s team was exhausted after the mission— Petra was still passed out at the back of the van. Felix and Annette were also high on adrenaline; they were the ones who arranged the getaway.

“We couldn’t find anything. Edelgard knows of the event and has suspicions on who was involved. But she herself doesn’t know exactly what happened.”

“We could have told you that,” Annette said drearily.

Dimitri wouldn’t accept this. Sylvain knew that. He knew him as a boy and has seen the man he has grown into. Felix had warned him. He should’ve known better.

“I guess we’re not getting paid, then,” said Dorothea.

“It’s not too bad, at least Dimitri isn’t going to chase us down and kill us,” said Bernadetta. “It was a fun dream too! Even though the target was super scary.”

“You should just skip town. When he hears that you weren’t able to get what he wanted, he won’t be pleased,” said Felix. He sounded almost resigned.

“What are you going to do? Stay and take the heat for us? He’s just going to send you after her again,” said Sylvain in concern. He really didn’t want to leave Felix behind. If he got tangled in Dimitri’s personal matters again, Sylvain would never be able to chase him down for that promised talk.

“He’s our boss,” said Felix. The _ and our friend _ remained silent. “Edelgard is dangerous, but aside from being tedious, it hasn’t been an issue to humour him.”

“He needs help,” said Sylvain. “He shouldn’t be humoured. You know he’s going to get worse. And the constant infiltrations will make Edelgard’s dreams more unstable. You’re going to get hurt, Fe.”

“You don’t think we’ve never tried convincing him to get help? To go to therapy? He’s convinced he won’t be able to rest unless he has revenge. He’s sure she did it and he’s desperate for proof. He wants to destroy her.”

“Won’t he listen to you? You’ve been friends for so long,” asked Bernadetta.

“He refuses to listen to _anyone_,” Felix said in frustration. “He’s got tunnel vision. We can’t get him to think about anything else but revenge.”

“Wait,” said Dorothea. She played with her hair, her shaky fingers betrayed her nerves. “I have an idea. Have you guys heard of inception?”

Felix stared at her as if she’d grown another head. “It’s impossible.”

“Not without a little imagination and a great team,” said Sylvain said brightly with a wink. Felix snorted and shook his head.

“You can’t put an idea in someone’s head, Sylvain. It’s not as easy as stealing an idea or manipulating someone in real life. The brain rejects foreign ideas,” said Ingrid, ever the voice of reason.

“The keyword is foreign,” rebutted Sylvain. “The subject must believe they created the idea themselves. If you think about it that way— sure it’ll be hard, but it wouldn't be impossible.”

“Isn’t it wrong? To manipulate someone like that?” asked Ashe, one of Dimitri’s assistants. Dedue, Dimitri’s bodyguard nodded solemnly. On the surface level, Sylvain was surprised that the man didn’t threaten them and shut down the idea immediately. But from what he could remember of Dedue, he was a driven man with one goal; the preservation of Dimitri’s well-being. They wanted the same thing.

“No one can make you do something you don’t want to do,” said Sylvain. “That’s the same for an inception. We can implant an idea, but that doesn’t mean we can change the subject’s course of actions if the idea doesn’t align with their motivations. We wouldn’t be manipulating him… we would just be guiding him onto another path.”

“Discussing morality is pointless anyway,” said Ingrid. “We’re good, but we’re not pulling off an inception by ourselves. The level of dream complexity needed to implant an idea is insane.”

“We’ll help for a discount,” Sylvain said with a flirtatious grin. Dorothea immediately whipped her head towards him and sent him an inscrutable glare. He’d probably hear a rant from her afterwards about committing a team to a project without discussing with them (and for a discount no less).

Ingrid nudged Felix. He scowled. “If you’re not messing around, we’ll take you up on the offer.”

“Then it’s settled. What’s the idea we need to plant?” Sylvain walked the floor. “We can’t start without a goal.”

“What about ‘Edelgard is innocent’?” asked Bernadetta.

Sylvain shook his head. “It wouldn’t work. He’d still be consumed with a need for revenge even if it’s not against her.”

“I like ‘We do not live to fulfil the wishes of the dead’,” said Ingrid.

“From what I’ve seen, Dimitri would not take well to that. He respects the ‘wishes’ of the dead more than those of the living,” confessed Dedue.

“It seems like the core of what we’re going for- encouraging him to choose what he wants to do,” said Sylvain. “We need to go simpler.”

“I’ve got it,” said Felix triumphantly. Sylvain watched him smile, and took in the warmth of that. “_ I have the right to carve my own path. _”

“Isn’t that a little vague?” asked Bernadetta.

Felix shook his head. “Not necessarily. Dimitri believes the dead want him to achieve revenge and that it’s the only way to appease them. He doesn’t believe he has the right to fight for what _he _ wants. In the end, he still wants to follow his dreams— dreams that align with his father’s own aspirations. But he can’t do that while concentrating on revenge.”

“Hmm… okay, it might be more productive to go for that angle,” agreed Dorothea. “Considering we’re telling him to follow what he innately wants to do, it shouldn’t be a difficult idea to implant.”

Sylvain grinned. “Let’s get started.”

***

There weren't many ways to wake up from an induced dream.

On the first level, you could simply wake up to reality when the dream timed out.

Beyond that, there were two main methods of waking up; a death and a kick.

Dying in a dream was self-explanatory. But a kick was the sensation of falling, hitting water or a sharp sensation. Usually a combination of sensations was enough to jolt one awake to the next dream level.

In a multi-level dream, it was common to use a synchronised kick. The sensations would be applied on the body of the dreamer on each level. It would catapult them all the way through to the first level of the dream. If timed just right, it would be enough to wake them up to reality.

Sylvain fondly remembered the experiments he’d set up with Ingrid, Felix and Glenn, trying to get the timing on complicated kicks just right.

It was much more fun than being shot or stabbed. Failure back then didn’t mean anything. Glenn’s job was to research dream functions for the military— finding out what worked and didn’t was part of that job.

Nowadays, failure had consequences.

***

The one advantage they had was that they knew Dimitri very, very well. The root of the problem was his survivor’s guilt and the entrenched idea that his parent’s dying wish was to be avenged.

Sylvain took the lead. The inception was Dorothea’s idea, but Sylvain knew dream theory and Dimitri on a deeply familiar level.

“It’s all about conceptual framing. We have to introduce him to the key emotional concepts that he’ll use to build the idea in the first level of the dream.”

Ingrid scrutinised his plans. “Do you want us to push him to build the idea in the second level then?”

“We’ll start then, but we can’t finish it there. There’s two things we need to build in order to succeed: his sense of agency and his positive emotional catharsis. We can’t do that in just two levels.”

Emotional catharsis was the key here. Dimitri believed that revenge would give him that catharsis— that the reason he felt so bereft and unfulfilled was because he was unable to do so.

They needed to manufacture an alternative form of emotional catharsis within the dream— to make him _ want _ to believe that he had a right to follow his own path. Sylvain knew better than anyone how important it was to have something or someone to ground you, to prevent yourself from being lost into the darkness.

“Three dream levels, huh? There’s no dream compound stable enough for that," said Bernadetta.

"I think I know someone who can help," said Annette. "My friend Mercie runs a dream lab uptown. She's a chemist, and does a lot of bespoke work. This project is a little unconventional but she might have something that will work."

"Perfect!" said Dorothea. "That's settled then."

"What will we be doing on the second and third level then?"

"On the second level, I want him to build his sense of agency. He needs to feel like he’s in control, like he’s the one making the choices, not his ghosts. We'll hint that something is wrong with the dream. I’ll impersonate his uncle Rufus— we’ll convince him that Rufus is there to steal company secrets and convince Dimitri to infiltrate Rufus’ dreams to turn the tides,” Sylvain explained.

Dimiti’s uncle Rufus was a real piece of work. At first, after the _accident _ that killed Dimitri’s family, Sylvain and Felix were sure that his uncle was involved. Sylvain had his doubts now, but everyone knew that if Dimitri was out of the picture, Rufus was the one with the most to gain— even Dimitri himself.

“How are we going to talk to him? He'll recognise us,” said Annette.

“I trained Dimitri’s subconscious,'' said Felix. “It'll make sense if I claimed to be the shape of his subconscious security.”

Sylvain’s brow wrinkled in concern. “You want to take the lead in the dream?”

Felix shrugged. “If that’s what we have to do. Don’t look at me like that, I’m not a bad actor. This is my job, you fool.”

Sylvain put his hands up. “Okay, okay. Moving on. On the third level, we enter my dream. Because we’ll hint at the existence of the safe, he’ll populate it with information— hopefully, with the right emotional cues, he’ll break into the safe and create the idea himself.”

“And the idea is still… that he deserves to follow his own path?” asked Ashe. “How are you going to connect that to his uncle?”

Sylvain made a considering noise. “Rufus isn’t an upstanding guy. We can imply to Dimitri that Rufus is keeping something from him, and that he’s trying to manipulate Dimitri so he becomes a less viable CEO than himself.”

“What’s the secret going to be?” asked Ingrid. “We can’t just imply everything.”

Sylvain looked at his notes. “Rufus was there when his brother died. What if we make Dimitri think that Rufus heard Lambert’s last words? And that those words were hoping that Dimitri wouldn't be consumed by his grief and be able to follow his own path. We suggest it in the early levels, and his subconscious will feed it right back to him.”

Felix nodded. “That could work. We’ll need to start weaving clues and props into the dream from early on.”

“We’ll need a trusted figure for me to impersonate on the first or second level to implant the cues for the idea,” said Dorothea.

"My father," said Felix. "Dimitri and the old man have always been close. Even if he doesn’t listen to him, Dimitri trusts him.”

“Sounds good. You can call me daddy,” she said with a carefree laugh. Felix’s face made it clear that he didn’t think she was very funny.

“Alright, that’s the basics of the plan, we’ll obviously flesh it out later. But I’m sure everyone has a clear idea of what to work on.”

Most of them murmured their agreement. It would be a difficult mission and they had to figure out what to tell Dimitri about the Edelgard heist first, but once they did, they were free to weave the web to catch Dimitri.

A long time ago, Sylvain left home to give himself freedom, and he lost and gained everything from it. He wanted desperately to give Felix that same freedom, but Felix was chained down by loyalty and obligation that he didn’t understand.

Well, this was his chance to do so.

***

Over the next few days, the team was quite busy. Dorothea and Sylvain spent most of their time researching their targets— they could only become the people they knew, after all.

Petra and Felix set to work designing the dream levels. Petra’s creative work was strengthened by Felix’s practicality and inside knowledge. Sylvain and Dorothea had to pull both of them from their workspaces so they would eat and sleep. Sylvain tackled Felix into a sleeping cot more than once, and Dorothea even caught them sleeping on the couch together on a particularly late night.

Bernadetta assisted the team by retrieving the relevant information and helped Sylvain and Felix plan the sequence of events for the dream. Ashe and Dedue would occasionally pop in when they could get away from Dimitri’s watch and would offer their insight into Dimitri’s mind.

Annette and Ingrid went down to talk to Annette’s friend, Mercedes, about the dream compound they needed to stabilise a three level dream.

They didn’t bring back good news.

“Mercie does have a chemical that makes triple level dreams more stable… but she’s reluctant to let us use it,” said Annette.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“To build a three level dream, you need to add a strong sedative to stabilise it. She’s played with it as much as she could, but she said there are still some negative side-effects that will be felt on the third level.”

“What kind of side-effects?” asked Felix warily.

“On the third level, if you die, you won’t wake up like you usually do. You’ll end up in limbo.”

“Limbo,” pondered Dorothea, “Isn’t it fine to go there? You can just return to the surface if you die again.”

“That’s not how it works,” said Sylvain. ‘You’ll only remember that you’re dreaming if you dream into limbo from the dream layer above. If you fall into limbo… you might never realise you’re dreaming. Why would you kill yourself when you think you’re living in your true reality?”

If you were pulled out, with the years and years that you’ve spent down there, there were no promises you’d ever be able to differentiate between reality and dreams ever again.

Ingrid frowned. “We should limit the number of people going into the third level. Felix and I have been to limbo before— we stand a better chance of finding our way out.”

“I have to go down either way,” said Sylvain. “You’ll be convincing Dimitri to infiltrate my dream.”

“No,” said Dorothea. “Your dreams aren’t stable enough. You can’t be the dreamer for the third level. We can switch. I’ll be Rufus, you can be Rodrigue.”

“I’ve been to limbo before, Dora,” he said. He’d never told his team that before and knew there was a barrage of questions waiting for him after the meeting. “Besides, Dimitri’s my friend. I can’t ask you to take that risk for me.”

Her face was stormy and her brows all scrunched up. Dorothea didn’t often get angry— she usually just showed her disappointment. “You _know _ why you shouldn’t. You’re my best friend, I’m not going to let you—”

“We’ll talk later,” said Sylvain, with every ounce of authority he had.

She let out a snort and got up. “Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

Ingrid watched her leave in concern. “What’s that all about? Should you go after her?”

Sylvain let out a laugh, which sounded hollow and fake even to his ears. “Don’t worry, she’s just overreacting. I’d never agree to anything that will put you all in danger. You know that.”

***

He found Felix out on the balcony, watching the moon and stars.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

He reached out to Felix’s ear, feigning pulling a coin out of thin air. He flipped it over his knuckles, and tossed it into the air, bracing to catch it—

Felix grabbed it from the air before it came down. “Cute, Sylvain.”

“I aim to please.”

Felix snorted and looked away again, out into the darkness. “I was thinking about you.”

“I’m flattered,” said Sylvain, but all he felt was trepidation— he knew the discussions they have had as a group had piqued Felix’s curiosity.

“You sound so sure that it’s possible. Inception. Like you’ve thought about it before.”

“Of course I have.”

“Oh? Did you have a particular target in mind?”

Sylvain paused. He wasn’t sure if he should say— but he did promise honesty. Even if it was partial. “Yes. You. I tried but— it was impossible on my own. It didn’t stick. Obviously.”

“When?”

“After your brother died.”

“Was I that insufferable? You couldn’t take my whining anymore, Gautier?” Felix angrily grabbed the fabric of Sylvain’s shirt, scrunching it up in his rage.

Sylvain took his hands in his, plying them with gentle touches. He lifted one to his mouth and kissed palm. “I love you, and I thought what I was doing wasn’t enough.”

Bitter conflict swarmed in Felix’s eyes are he tugged his hands back. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

“Of course not. But I knew it wouldn’t work. I just needed to feel like I was doing something. I can’t sit still.”

“You’re just like a child.”

“Yeah. Either way, you were always stronger than me— you could face and solve your own problems. I always run away from mine.”

“You’re not running now.”

“No. I guess not.”

Then, Sylvain said, “The inception might not work the way you want it to. After all, there’s no miracle cure for mental health.”

“I know that,” said Felix. “We’re just like you. We want to feel like we’re doing something to help. But in the end, it’s all up to him.”

***

They set everything up. It wasn’t anything complicated. Usually they would have to hunt for an opportunity to share a dream with the subject, a period of time where they would be unconscious: a plane trip, a surgical operation, an interstate train ride. But this time, they had Dedue and Ashe on their side.

Once Dimitri had fallen asleep in his bed, they began.

Ashe and Dedue stayed above to help them time the dream. They had suggested going into to the dream too, but Felix overruled them.

“Leave it to the professionals,” he said. “Dimitri’s hyper-militarised. I trained him myself. We can’t afford any distractions. No tourists allowed on this mission.”

Petra dreamed the first layer.

Then, Annette dreamed the second layer.

Finally, Sylvain dreamed the third.

It all went well— they managed to get Dimitri all the way down to break into his own subconscious, and watched him as he built the idea— a tearful reunion with the ghost of his father, the projection telling him— “Your life is your own. It belongs to no other, living or dead. Live for what you believe in.”

It was a struggle, withholding Dimitri’s militarized projections from the inner sanctum of the level. Despite some part of Dimitri believing in them and working to infiltrate his own dream, other parts of his subconscious were still naturally hostile.

Ingrid was watching Dimitri, ensuring his dreaming was uninterrupted while Sylvain and Felix ran interference.

Sylvain had lost count of how many projections he had eliminated, and how many wounds he had. He gritted his teeth under the pain. It would be unfortunate if he died from blood loss there when they were so, so close.

They were waiting for Dimitri to finish up, so they could contentedly ride the kick back upwards. Sylvain knew that if he died here, on the third level, under this sedation— he probably wouldn’t wake up.

He braced himself as another horde of projections closed in on him. He was out of bullets and had no time to summon another gun. He moved as nimbly as he could, taking them out with knives and hand to hand as he gradually moved closer to Felix’s side of the map, almost instinctively. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer by himself.

Suddenly, he was tackled from behind— he managed to throw off the assailant off, but his footing slipped on the icy surface. He reached out and grabbed the edge of the suspended pathway, the momentum yanking his arm almost out of the socket. He groaned in pain. Maybe, if he wasn’t bone-tired, he’d be able to last for an hour like this… but his arm was screaming in pain and his fingers were losing their strength.

“Sylvain!” He heard Felix call. He’d never heard him sound so anguished. Felix ran across the pathway and thrust his hand towards Sylvain, but with his fingers barely hanging onto the precipice, he couldn’t reach out to take it.

“I’m sorry, Felix,” he said, and he meant it more than ever before. “It looks like I can’t keep that promise.”

***

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He falls.

***

He dreams and remembers, Felix, as a young child sobbing into his shirt.

“Sylvain,” he whines. Sylvain tries to smile as he strokes his hair- Felix’s locks were always very soft and pleasant to touch. Even though he was trying to comfort Felix, that didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling better from this soft embrace.

“I’m here,” he says. Here, after days in the hospital. When they found him, he was dehydrated and malnourished after days lost in the forest. What was supposed to be a fun camping trip had turned into a nightmare.

When they asked him what had happened, his reply was stilted and broken. His throat choked up when he remembered a shadowy figure pushing him down that small cliff. He twisted his ankle, bruised a few ribs and was covered in nicks and scratches. His bruises meant his skin was sore to touch all over.

Felix tries to pat away his own tears, sniffling pitifully. “Sylvain! You can’t leave me behind. You can’t die without me.”

Sylvain smiles indulgently. He loved all of his friends and grudgingly respected his family, but Felix was someone who he didn’t want to ever let down. “Felix… of course, I won’t leave you.”

The shade sniffles and smiles and threw its arms around his neck. “You can’t ever leave me then, you promised!”

***

Sylvain lives wonderful life after wonderful life.

He follows Felix across the landscape. Sometimes Felix leads him on a merry chase, sometimes they travel alongside each other.

They spend days in bed, in each other's company.

They build roads, towers, art and entire cities spanning as far as the eye can see. It feels vaguely reminiscent of his early days of dream-sharing when he’d spent countless hours building ideas with Felix.

There’s something not quite right, and the thought wriggles at the back of his mind. But he’s distracted by Felix’s touch and smile, which he gives out more freely than ever.

***

One day, he comes home to Felix. He doesn’t quite notice the mess in their little cabin; the furniture is toppled and the window is cracked.

He had just dreamt up a wonderful zoo and filled it with big cats. He's sure Felix would love it, but when he tells him about it and starts to lead him to his creation, Felix was quieter than usual.

“Don’t you want to see it?”

“I’ll go,” he says quietly, as fragile as the pages as the tales he used to read to him. “But only if you let me show you something first.”

He takes out a locket and hands it to Sylvain. It looks familiar, but he can’t put his finger on where he’s seen it before.

“Open it,” Felix urges. He watches Sylvain with wary and guarded eyes.

Sylvain smiles and takes the locket, choosing to step forward and kiss Felix’s cheek as he takes it from him. Felix stands there, shock still, but Sylvain didn’t notice that at all. “A gift? You shouldn’t have.”

He opens the locket. It was a small pocket watch, incredibly small and delicate. The little hands continued to tick as he watched it.

Quietly, Felix asks, “Do you know what this is?”

“A pocket watch.”

He looks back up at Felix, whose brows were drawn in an expression of frustration. Sylvain wondered if he’d be able to distract him with a smile.

“It’s not just any watch; it’s my token.”

He looked back at the pocket watch, which ticked innocuously at him. “Seems like a terrible token, if all it does is tick. Everyone knows that’s what clocks do.”

“That’s because you’re wrong,” said Felix. “In the waking world, it doesn’t work.”

The clock continued to tick.

“When I found out you left I was so angry that I threw it at the wall. It broke. I never opened it in when anyone was around, so except for me, no one knows what time it shows.”

“But it’s still working,” Sylvain says, confused. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

Felix gripped him by the shoulders while he stood there, slack.

“Sylvain. You’re dreaming. You need to wake up,” he pleaded, the frustration bleeding into his voice.

"Felix,” he says, listlessly as he reached out towards his face.

Felix pulled away from his touch as if it was an open flame. The action felt achingly familiar.

"Don't you remember the real world? What about your friends? Your job? They must mean something to you.” Felix spat the words out, incredulous.

Sylvain shakes his head angrily. "I don’t want to go back. I promised you I would stay."

"That _ thing _ is not me. You can’t atone for your transgressions down here. They only way you can keep the _ real _ promise you made to me is if you leave this place.”

“We can be happy here, Felix. Together. Were we ever happy up there?”

Felix lunged out and grabbed him, maneuvering him and pinning him down. "I would rather live one waking lifetime with you than a thousand dreams. Sylvain. This place has changed you. You've forgotten yourself. It doesn't matter if we can't go back to the way we were. We can move forward. But not if you stay here."

He was crying now, tears dripping onto Sylvain's skin. He tasted like salt.

"You— you promised me. That you wouldn't leave me behind. You promised, Sylvain. Come home with me."

Home.

Where was home, if it wasn’t by his side?

Sylvain leans forward to meet the space by Felix’s lips. “I’ll come home with you. Grow old together with me, Felix.”

And he wakes.

***

“My beloved is mine and I am his;

he pastures his flock among the lilies.

Before the day breaks and shadows flee,

turn, my beloved,

and be like a gazelle

or a young stag on the mountains of Bether.”

— Songs of Solomon, 2:16-17.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Cha ([akhikosanada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akhikosanada/pseuds/akhikosanada)) & Elliot ([scatteringmyashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteringmyashes/pseuds/scatteringmyashes)) for betaing for me and for the rest of Sylvix Squad server for putting up with my constant progress updates haha.
> 
> A little bit of the summary was borrowed from [Patience, a steady hand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/170021). I’ve scrolled past it so many times browsing the Inception tag that it’s become representative of the fandom for me. It was the first thing I thought of when I started writing this, so I put in a little homage.
> 
> The Song of Solomon verses that I snipped is inspired by [Dilectus Meus Mihi... ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/301669#main) , which is honestly one of the best SuperBat fics ever.
> 
> This was supposed to be Day 2//Dreams for Sylvix week but…. I’m a slow writer. I started this BEFORE Sylvix week. It was supposed to be 4-6k haha. Now it’s time to move on to finishing It’s Strange, my next NaNo WIP and my gift exchange fic hehe.
> 
> Also if you'd like to join a FE3H discord, here is the [masterlist](https://fe3hdiscords.crd.co/)


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